Lucky Number 13
by Hetera
Summary: -"I'll kill them," he vowed. "I won't rest until they soak in their own blood." SLASH (RS) Alternate Universe
1. Prologue: Prisoner 162 Class A

_Lucky Number 13  
_  
Rating: PG-13. Rating may be raised later on for mature content.  
  
Status: First Fic.  
  
Written By: Hetera  
  
Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, and slash in later chapters. Dry humor at most.  
  
Genre: Drama  
  
Summary:  
  
He had been locked away unjustly, framed and convicted for the deaths of thirteen people. He has escaped. Now he is determined to seek revenge upon the ones who put him in prison. All thirteen of them.  
  
Remus Lupin lives in Galeston, a small town several miles away from the prison, working as a waiter in a tidy café. Upon taking the night shift, he serves coffee to an unusual new comer looking for a place to stay. Remus ends up taking him as a roommate. At first he found his new roomy to be alright, even with all the nightly outings. That is, until he comes home one night... covered in blood...  
  
Prologue:  
_Prisoner 162 Class A_  
  
Gray Harbor Prison sat far on England's countryside, miles away from the four small towns that sat on its borders. Gray Harbor, named though no ocean sat next to it, was an Old Irish castle renewed to house at least three hundred prisoners. Once magnificent rooms and draperies had been replaced with bars and new plumbing. Once housing a rich family now housed two hundred and thirty four _special_ prisoners.  
  
You see; Gray Harbor is not a normal prison. It was a mental institution for the criminally insane, for those who have committed outrageous acts- and not being within their right minds. These prisoners were marked with a letter: _A_, _B_, _C_. _A_ being the most dangerous.  
  
Very,_ very_ few make _A_, but there was one who did. Prisoner 162 was housed in the highest tower of the castle, guarded day and night. He committed thirteen murders, twelve of them being the heads of rich families, and the thirteenth was what the doctor that worked with him found the oddest. The thirteenth was a milk farmer.  
  
Sirius Black was an odd one all right; Dr. Jeremy Holland had decided when he heard the story for the first time. Twelve murders, clean and marked with the same slit of the throat. What baffled him (and the authorities that caught him) the most was the very last murder, for the person killed had nothing to do with the rich families: Peter Pettigrew was just a farmer.  
  
The kill was even stranger, as there was blood everywhere; nothing left of the body but a finger. How they connected Black to this murder was that he was there when a constable and several other officers arrived. He was holding a blade, staring at the bloodied chaos... _laughing_. Later on the authorities confirmed that to be the same blade that killed the other twelve. He was arrested that same night. There was no trial, he was sent straight to Gray Harbor, straight to Jeremy Holland.  
  
For Holland, it was hard to believe that this twenty-one year old young man was insane. Black spoke normally, thought normally, talked about the weather, read the papers, and even played chess. It was a mystery to him that he, or anyone else for the matter, could brutally murder thirteen people. For this is what the doctor was trying to decipher for the passed twelve years.  
  
Jeremy Holland, though still young, worked in Office Class _A_ for fourteen years since graduating from a major university, majoring in the work of the human mind. He studied every prisoner in Gray Harbor, taking a special interest in Black. There was something different about him that set him apart from all the other patients.  
  
Holland made his usual weekly visit to the highest tower, a chessboard under one arm, a clipboard under the other, and a pen behind his right ear. Like all the doctors here, he wore a long white coat over his dress shirt and jumper, and polished black shoes. The walk up the stairs was a long one, but he managed, finally reaching the heavily bolted steel doors.  
  
Two muscled guards stood on either side holding impressive looking guns, staring with identical menacing looks.  
  
"Evening, boys." Holland smiled at them both only to receive grunts.  
  
"Badge?" One asked gruffly.  
  
"Yes, yes. Of course..." Carefully trying not to drop anything, he rummaged in his pocket and pulled out his badge (consisting of a classification A card, work ID, and whatnot.)  
  
Stiffly, one guard unlocked several locks and the other pulled the heavy door open, revealing another set of heavy barred doors. They unlocked those as well and pushed them open, letting Holland through.  
  
"Thank you," he said, this time, receiving no reply. He heard the doors slam shut as he proceeded into the small circular room.  
  
Like all cells, this room consisted of a single table in the center with two chairs across from one another. Dimly lit with florescent lighting, a sink and toilet, both unclean like a public bathroom that no one wants to tidy. A fold up bed made of rusting iron was chained near a single barred window, and a mattress most likely stuffed with straw that smelled of mold sat gloomily on the untrusting metals.  
  
Sitting on the lumpy, mold smelling mattress was Prisoner 162 Class _A_ himself. Sirius Black stared out the barred windows; blankly surveying the blackened clouds of the night sky with kohl colored eyes. Twelve years he had been here in Gray Harbor, and he didn't look a day older than twenty- one. Small changes had occurred, naturally, that his once short hair was now much longer, reaching a bit passed his shoulder blades. His slightly darkened skin was now a ghostly white, and he lost a considerable amount of weight. Not exactly skin-and-bone, just thinner.  
  
"Evening Sirius," Holland said cheerfully though greeting an old friend.  
  
"Dr. Holland," Black nodded, turning away from the window, the doctor getting a good view of his young face.  
  
Holland smiled seating himself at the table, motioning Black over. He complied, seating himself across from him.  
  
"So," Holland began setting up the chessboard letting the other man choose his pieces. "How are you?"  
  
"Dreadfully bored," Black said. "Not that I not always look forward to your visits. No one to speak too, you understand. Those guards don't exactly stop for a chat either."  
  
"Ah," Holland nodded, "lovely weather this passed week, don't you agree?" he changed the subject.  
  
"Gloomy, I'd say. Horribly cloudy." Black said moving his pawn. "But I suppose that's how you'd enjoy it?"  
  
Holland mimicked him. "Not really, but my wife enjoys the rain for some odd reason. My kids can't stand it. Were you married, Sirius? Any children?"  
  
Black carefully moved his knight forward. "No, I never had a girlfriend since high school, I was close to marrying her- but she backed off on the last moment. Telling me she wasn't ready, when she was actually two-timing me." He smiled bitterly watching the doctor's move. "Such snakes, some woman. Gave up on trying since then."  
  
Holland watched as Black took his bishop. "No children then?"  
  
"No. Never really liked kids, I have a godson though."  
  
"Do you?" Holland's knight took one of his pawns.  
  
Black nodded, "My best friend's son, Harry. Haven't seen them in years though. I believe they still live in a small town a few miles from here." He moved his second knight. "They might have moved by now, though."  
  
"Interesting," Holland said picking up his clipboard and taking his pen from behind his ear. He looked at Black with a grim smile. "Please excuse me..."  
  
"Of course. You don't just go around talking to patients for fun," Black shrugged. "It's your job to study us, right?"  
  
Holland blushed slightly with embarrassment, but nodded jotting down a few quick notes. "So," he moved another pawn. "Since we're on the subject of family, tell me about yours. Did you have any siblings?"  
  
"I'm the fifth and youngest out of all my father's sons." Black said seizing the pawn the doctor just moved. "Fifth being I had a lot to live up too. My father had... high expectations for each of us."  
  
"Really? Who were your brothers?" Holland moved his second bishop.  
  
"Leo, Sagittarius, Pegasus, and Orion." Black took the bishop pausing for a moment. "My mother had a thing for stars, so she named us after them." He added.  
  
Holland moved another pawn, "What about your mother and father, Domanicus and Athanon Black?"  
  
"I hated them both." He moved his knight. "Check."  
  
Holland moved his king. "Why?"  
  
"Domanicus for his maddened ways and Athanon for bringing me into that retched family." Black pushed his queen forward. "Checkmate."  
  
Holland blinked and looked at the board, nothing protected his king, a checkmate. "Indeed," he agreed. He cleared away the pieces and jotted down more notes. "You hated your mother and father... enough to say... perhaps... kill?"  
  
Black leant back on his chair, a grim smile on his face. "You know my answer, doctor."  
  
"Do I?" Holland said placing down his pen and clipboard, folding his hands on the table. "The same answer you gave the police when they arrested you, after finding evidence that you killed thirteen people?"  
  
There was a pregnant pause, Holland staring calmly at Black's slouching exterior. His shoulders began to shake, and the doctor had a faint belief of him to be crying.  
  
"Sirius?"  
  
He looked up, a small smile on his thin lips. He wasn't crying- he was laughing. Not an amused laugh, not an insane one. It was bitter and strangely eerie, sending shivers down Holland's spine.  
  
"You want to know, doctor? You want to know _everything_?" Black leant forward on the table.  
  
"Everything you're willing to tell me," Holland answered truthfully and as calmly as possible.  
  
The smile, though faint, was still there. "Alright, I'll tell you."  
  
There was another pause.  
  
"There's a catch, isn't there?" Holland said finally.  
  
"You know me well, doctor." Black said leaning back once more.  
  
"Go on," Holland said.  
  
"I'll tell you everything you want to know: the reason for those murders, why you only found that farmer's finger, why them. Everything. If," Black paused surveying the doctor. "You get me out of class _A_."  
  
"That would be impossible," Holland said. "Convincing a council to put you in a lower class. It'd be like trying to convince blood thirsty foxes to eat carrots instead of rabbits."  
  
"It doesn't have to be in class _C_ or another prison," Black said. "I just want another room. It's incredibly cold here at night and sickeningly hot during the days. Just a room on the second floor with a wider window-"he looked at the look on Holland's face. "-Barred of course, and with the same security if it makes you feel any better."  
  
Holland considered this for a moment. Information for a bigger room? It was an odd request, but-  
  
"Perhaps I could pull a few strings," He said finally. "Besides, it's quite a walk from my office to this tower. The second floor," he held out his hand to shake Black's. "Deal then?"  
  
"One more thing doctor," Black said. "When we talk, I want to talk in your office." Holland hesitated so he added quickly, "you can have me in a straight jacket if you wish."  
  
Another moment hesitation, then they shook hands. "Agreed." Holland cleared his throat. "I'll see if I can arrange something for you." He picked up the chessboard and clipboard, tucking his pen behind his ear. "Goodnight Sirius."  
  
He turned to leave knocking harshly through the bars. The guards pushed them open to let him through.  
  
"Goodnight Dr. Holland."  
  
And the doors were shut once more with a deafening clang, the echo of iron and brass locks being set.  
  
Sirius returned to his window, watching the gray of the sky and the beginning of rain.  
  
"Dreadful weather. Just dreadful."

The next morning at Gray Harbor was a gloomy gray, nothing but the occasional peek of the sun through thickened clouds. A fog like mist rested around the grounds making it almost impossible to get to the parking lot. Security guards had to be set out as guides.  
  
Dr. Holland had made it through with little difficulty and was now settling in his office. As was discussed with Sirius Black the previous night, he had managed to get the man a new cell on the second floor near his office. Now he was to speak with him in this very room.  
  
It was like any other office, the stone walls covered with a light blue wallpaper. A single wooden door leading in and out, an oak desk stacked neatly with several papers, clipboards with hundreds of notes and charts. A leather chair sat behind and a wooden chair in front. Behind the leather chair was another wall covered in decrees and other various certificates.  
  
Already settled behind the desk, Holland busied himself with a new prisoner's records that would soon be placed in a class C, when a knock interrupted him.  
  
"Come in," he said looking up from his papers.  
  
One of the guards that stationed in the tower the other night opened it, roughly guiding Sirius Black into the office. As agreed to, he was in a straight jacket.  
  
"Sirius," Holland greeted. "Nice to see you again,"  
  
"Good morning Dr. Holland." He was as calm as usual.  
  
"I'll be outside your door," the guard grunted pushing Black onto the wooden chair and leaving, shutting the door behind him.  
  
"Quite the gentlemen, your guards." Black commented adjusting himself on the chair. "Even took the liberty of fastening the jacket. Lovely job they did, really."  
  
Holland smiled knowing not whether to take it as sarcasm or dry humor. "They just do their job."  
  
"Of course. You have nice..." he looked around the office and spotted something on the right wall, "Swords. Asian swords, samurai correct?"  
  
Holland looked, "Oh yes, my wife is Japanese and believes in something called _feung shuei_, I forget what the swords represent though. They were made by her grandfather, excellent steel, and still very sharp."  
  
Black eyed the three swords hanging on small racks, topping each other. Dark sheaths with gold and silver embedded into the hilts. The doctor cleared his throat; then he tore his eyes away from them.  
  
"Lets not beat around the bush anymore, eh?" Holland said cheerfully. "Let's get to the chase. About the murders Sirius-"  
  
"Notes." Black said suddenly.  
  
"Excuse me?" Holland blinked.  
  
"Shouldn't you write this down?" He said expressionless.  
  
The doctor laughed, "Of course, how silly. A moment..." he looked around his desk for one of his clipboards. "Now where did I...? A second please." Holland got up from his chair and started looking in his filing cabinet. "Ah, here we go! Sorry about-"he turned around only to see the wooden chair empty.  
  
"What the-?" He walked around the desk to find nothing and to his horror, one of the swords on the wall were gone.  
  
Holland's face went white when he felt something cold press the back of his head.  
  
"If you run or scream, I'll drive this right through your skull." Came Black's voice, cold and menacing. "Turn around. _Slowly_."  
  
With shuddering breaths, Holland did what he was told coming face to face with the end of his wife's grandfather's samurai sword. Holding the hilt, Black had somehow undid the bindings to the jacket which he now held in his other hand. He tossed it at the doctor.  
  
"Slip it on," Black said unfalteringly, holding the sword with ease. Holland did what he was told and Black fastened the buckles tightly, lowering the sword and pushing the doctor onto his leather chair.  
  
He smiled grimly staring at the shimmering steel. "Excellent cut, just the right size, but much lighter than my old blade. Perfect grip- a fine sword. My compliments to your wife's grandfather."  
  
Holland looked up at Black, "What are you going to do?" he said quietly. "You won't be able to get out of here- the guard knows your face."  
  
"Not if I gut his eyes out," Black said simply.  
  
Holland bit his bottom lip and kept silent.  
  
Black laughed that same eerie laugh. "It was a _joke_, Dr. Holland. You always told me you had a good sense of humor."  
  
The doctor said nothing.  
  
"You know," Black continued. "I've been thinking. How about we change a bit of the agreement, hm? I give you information and I walk out of here without a worrying about you yelling? Deal?"  
  
Holland was still silent.  
  
Black took that as a yes. "Good," he played with the sword, testing its durability with a good swing, slicing a bit of a bamboo tree by the door cleanly from the pot. "You see doctor, I'm an innocent man. Now don't give me that look," Black said staring at Holland's disbelieving expression. "I was framed. By whom, you ask? Why by Belladonna Beatrice, Donavon Askerlof, Gollando Malfoy-"  
  
"Those people are dead." Holland said, finally speaking. "You were charged with their murders."  
  
"Wrong." Black said turning the sword on him again with a fiery rage. Holland shut his mouth. "I may have been charged, but those people are alive. Alive and well, and Domanicus is hiding them. All thirteen of them."  
  
Holland swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to keep his calm. "Your father? Wasn't he the one who tried to get you a trial-"  
  
"Wrong again," Black snorted pulling back the sword. "He paid the council not give me a trial. You see he hates me, and this is his sick way to punish me- to teach me a lesson. All because I wanted out. Well now it's my turn."  
  
Holland let these knew revelations sink in before asking, "Out of what?"  
  
He smiled grimly, "Look up the Old Rumors, you'll know."  
  
The doctor raised an eyebrow at that. The "Old Rumors"? He swallowed, was it the rumors about the Black family?  
  
"What about Peter Pettigrew?" Holland asked, suddenly remembering the farmer's death.  
  
"Was once a friend of mine," Black said coldly. "Until my father paid him to fake his own death, to send me here. I always knew Peter was a dirty old rat. Looking after his own hide, afraid to refuse my father. It was my own stupidity to confront him, planned on killing him myself." He shook his head.  
  
"You know, Sirius." Holland said after a brief moment of thought. "I never thought I'd say this... you're _insane_."  
  
"You think so?" Black said smiling bitterly. He leant forward so he was eye level with the doctor. "Well, I suppose you would think so after all this." He whispered. "but I assure you, I'm not crazy. I just want _revenge_, Dr. Holland. You see, I don't want to be in prison for murders I didn't commit. So I might as well make it official for the records." He backed up, standing straight.  
  
"Aren't you going to kill me?" Holland asked suddenly as Black reached the door.  
  
He paused, looking over his shoulder.  
  
"I know too much, don't I?" Holland said quietly.  
  
Black chuckled grimly, "No, just enough. I'm keeping you alive for three reasons: one of them being you have a wife and child, they can't miss daddy. Second is that you aren't on my death list, Dr. Holland. I respect you a great deal, and I thank you for those wonderful chess games. Finally, everything I told you, you can tell to the authorities. They'll want to know all that's happened." He turned around fully. "And one last thing, doctor." He rose the sword to Holland's stomach, slicing one of the buckles. "To help you get out of that thing."  
  
Black was at the door once more turning the brass knob. "Remember, if you scream, I will kill you." He added as an afterthought.  
  
Holland kept silent.  
  
The door was opened and the guard stepped into view, "Doctor? What the-?!" he never had a chance to finish his sentence. The guard fell heavily to the floor, heavy amounts of blood spilling from his newly slashed throat, creating a tiny pool at Black's feet.  
  
Holland watched as Black stepped over the body and started down the corridor.  
  
Strapped in straight jacket with a broken buckle, Holland some how pulled the formidable material apart to free himself. He reached an arm under his desk and pressed the alarm, his aura of calm still in tact. For some reason, he didn't panic during that situation. He didn't find it necessary. Was it because he knew Black wasn't going to kill him? Was it because he was truly afraid and couldn't bring himself to scream? Or was it because... he knew Black was innocent?  
  
Holland couldn't explain to the inspector when they arrived how Black escaped, just that he killed the guard and left. He didn't tell the authorities Black's story, either, feeling it unnecessary at the time.  
  
When he was told he could leave, he had to take a ride with a friend because his car was missing. As were his keys.

()()()()()()()

Ta da! The prologue's done! - YAY! I know this doesn't answer a lot of questions, but as we go along more answers will be revealed! Like why did Sirius's father pay Peter to fake his death? Was he really framed? If so, will he get his revenge? Will the authoress ever get to the slashy goodness?!  
  
Give me lots of nice reviews, and we'll see. -  
  
With Love,  
  
Hetera 

Ps: Oh, I hope I did alright... Was the imagery okay? What about the descripition? Did it even make sense?! Oh, I hope so... please don't flame, I tried super hard!!! Nice reviews, please? ;;


	2. The Night Shift Stranger

_** Lucky Number 13  
**_  
Read beginning notes for summary. I own nothing, naturally. :(  
  
Thanks to:  
  
Chapter 1:  
  
_The Night Shift Stranger_  
  
Galeston was quite the small town, the tiniest out of the four settling the surrounding roads of Gray Harbor Prison. Small, tranquil, and the quietist. Nothing amazing or startling ever happened here, it was considered a nice place to grow up, a nice place to start a small family.  
  
Being the small town it was, here, everyone knew everyone. Everyone knew every place. Everyone knew where everyone was and what he or she was up too. Everyone even knew when there was someone new in town. It was very rare when the town received visitors of any kind, if they did, they were prepared.  
  
In the center of Galeston sat a tiny café and inn called _The Widow_. It was an old fashioned sort of inn, with it's old fashioned spindly chairs and tables, a bar with racks of intoxicating beverages embedded into the wooden walls behind it, and a staircase leading to the upper floors. To the bedrooms: hence the inn part of this building.  
  
_The Widow_ was run by a large family, the surname being Weasely. Molly and Arthur Weasely were the parents of seven children, all with flaming red hair and spotting freckles all over their faces. The Weasely children consisted of six boys and one girl. The girl being the youngest. They were perhaps the poorest family in Galeston, having to support so many children, even if three of them had already moved out to start their own lives in bigger towns.  
  
The poorest, but the nicest family you'd ever meet in this small, uneventful town. Remus Lupin knew this, he had been working as a waiter at the inn for almost three years, working the noon shift with their other three sons: the twins Fred and George, and the youngest son, Ronald (Ron for short).  
  
It was a boring job, as no one really visited_ The Widow_. Of course they got the occasional stop-for-coffee customer, but no one truly stopped for a chat, but it did give small pay and kept Remus going. The inn, though usually empty, was quite a cozy place. A boring place to work- but perhaps a lovely place to stay.  
  
It was another boring shift for Remus, the twins had run off saying something about a break, and Ron went to go meet up with a friend of his, Harry Potter.  
  
"I'm sorry, dear." Molly had said while helping Remus clean off some dishes (they were beginning to dust). "I'll get them later for this, leaving you alone-"  
  
"Oh no, it's alright." Remus smiled brushing honey brown hair from his moon-colored eyes. "They're kids, they should be out playing."  
  
"They _should_ be _here_ helping _you_," Molly insisted drying off a chipped mug, a note of irritation in her voice. "What if there was a customer?"  
  
"No offense, Molly." Remus said stacking the last plate for her to dry. "But we barely get anybody here. I'm sure if there were, I could handle it myself."  
  
"I know dear, and none taken by the way." Molly said, shaking out her rag. "I just want them to take on some _responsibility_. Honestly- Bill, Charlie, or Percy wouldn't have done this..." She sighed in exasperation.  
  
Remus just chuckled lightly, finishing the last mug and handing it to Molly. She dried it off quickly, and both her and Remus stacked them into the cabinets.  
  
"Remus," Molly said suddenly, biting her bottom lip. "I feel horrible for asking, but..."  
  
"Yes Molly?" Remus said with a light smile.  
  
"You know Brenda, right?" Molly said. "The woman that helps with the night shift? She's out sick, a nasty bout of flu I'm afraid."  
  
"Sounds terrible," Remus commented.  
  
She nodded. "I was wondering, since Brenda's out, could you perhaps take the night shift? Just for this week?"  
  
He nodded, "Of course."  
  
Molly blinked, "You- um, you don't mind?"  
  
Remus shook his head, "Not at all." He smiled. "I have nothing to do during the night, anyway."  
  
"Oh Good!" She said, looking relieved. "I mean, not that you have nothing to do... oh you know..." she laughed nervously.  
  
They both walked from the back kitchen and into the café, empty, as usual. But out of habit, both Remus and Molly took the aprons hanging on the rack by the kitchen door and put them on. Molly began her usual tidying; dusting and cleaning glass. Remus took the liberty of sweeping the floors and making sure tables were clean.  
  
Once all simple chores were done, Molly made tea and they settled themselves at one of the tables. She began buttering biscuits when the bell above the door jingled, and four young boys bustled into the inn, talking loudly and laughing.  
  
Three of them were Molly's sons. Two identical boys, Fred and George, just about to reach their sixteenth year, then there was Ron. A big nosed, big- footed boy, all with flaming red hair and freckles. The last was Ron's friend, Harry Potter. He was quite small and skinny for his age, with messy jet-black hair and thick black rimmed glasses over his emerald green eyes.  
  
"Just where have you three been?" Molly demanded, putting down the biscuit and brandishing the butter knife dangerously.  
  
The boys hushed instantly.  
  
"Um... No where really, just around." Fred answered with a shrug as same time as his brother.  
  
Molly's eyes narrowed with suspicion, "Now don't give me that! Why weren't you here? You were supposed to be helping Remus!"  
  
"Aw, c'mon mum. Remus let us go." George protested. "Isn't that right? Didn't he let us go, Ron?"  
  
"Actually-"Ron was nudged harshly in the ribs by Fred. "Yeah... he let us..."  
  
Remus just shook his head, and grinned.  
  
Molly shook her head; "You are all so impossible- it doesn't matter anyway, all three of you will help him with the night shift, tonight."  
  
There were collective groans from her sons.  
  
"Shush, shush!" Molly snapped. "You three ran off, it's only fair. Besides, Brenda's out. Remus could use all the help he could use." She gave them a final glare before turning to Harry. She smiled warmly. "Hello, Harry, dear. Would you like some tea? Maybe a biscuit?"  
  
"No thanks, Mrs. Weasely." Harry said curtly.  
  
"We don't have time anyway, mum." George said with a grin. "We just came by to tell Remus we saw the coolest car!"  
  
"Did you?" Remus said putting down his empty teacup. Molly refilled it automatically.  
  
"Yeah," Fred said. "Some guy in black was driving it, but I've never seen him before."  
  
"We think he's new," Ron inquired. "We heard some of the neighbors talking. They think he's from America or something, with a car like that. It's totally wicked!"  
  
"It's parked near Wally's Gas Station," Harry said. "We're going to try and get a better look at it."  
  
Molly pursed her lips in disapproval, "I wouldn't bother the man-"  
  
"Oh, mum, we're not going to bother _him,_ we just want to look at his car." Fred grinned. Before Molly could protest, the boys were already out the door.  
  
"Be back by six!" She called, then sighed in defeat. "What will I ever do with them?"  
  
Remus smiled at her, "Boys will be boys, Molly. I remember when I was younger I'd ogle at cars all the time. Telling my parents which ones I wanted when I'd get older."  
  
She sighed again and sat back down. There was another jangle of the bells, and Fred came bustling back inside.  
  
"Mum, Remus!" Fred said excitedly. "He's here, he's here!"  
  
"Who's here?" Remus asked.  
  
"That man with the car!" Fred said. "He just pulled in front of the inn- man, that car is so wicked! It's a _corvette_ mum! A _corvette_, can you believe it?"  
  
"Must be passing through then, with a car like that." Molly said, standing up again and adjusting her apron. "You said he pulled up here?"  
  
Fred nodded, "Yeah, I think he's coming inside-"He hushed when the third jangle of bells chimed, and a tall man stepped through into the café.  
  
He looked young, perhaps around the age of twenty-one, but he gave off a strange feeling of being a lot older. His hair was black and quite long, cut so his bangs framed his seemingly ageless face. The rest if his hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and sunglasses rested over his eyes. A black leather jacket hung open over his shoulders, revealing the only white bit of clothing on him; a plain T-shirt. Leather pants and heavy looking chains clad his legs, the ending cuts stuffed into thick boots with silver buckles.  
  
All in all, he was definitely not from around here.  
  
Remus couldn't help but stare.  
  
"May I help you?" Molly asked, embarrassed, for she too had a moment of gawking.  
  
"Yeah, this is an inn, right?" The stranger asked. He wasn't American, like he was rumored to be. His British accent was quite clear.  
  
She nodded, "Yes, are you looking to stay the night?"  
  
"A few days, actually, until I can find a place." He said.  
  
There was another awkward silence.  
  
Molly gasped, "Oh, excuse me, it's been awhile since we hand any guests. Fred," she looked at her son. "Fix this gentleman a room and have George help take up his things-"  
  
"Don't worry about any luggage," the man said. "I didn't bring anything with me."  
  
"Oh," Molly blinked. "Alright then. Fred, get a move on now!" She shooed her son towards the stairs.  
  
"All right, mum, all right..." with one final glance at the stranger, Fred made his way up the stairs.  
  
"Would you like anything to drink?" Molly asked, giving the man a kind smile. "Perhaps a place to sit while you're waiting? Tea, maybe?"  
  
He nodded, "I wouldn't say no to coffee, if you have any."  
  
She nodded, "Remus." She turned to her waiter, who stood up quickly, stumbling awkwardly. "Would you seat him? I'll go start boiling that water."  
  
"Of, course." Remus nodded curtly, blushing, and slightly embarrassed. "This way, please." He lead the man to a table near the window, where he got a good view of the town outside. Across the street was Gullies Candy Shop and Maria's Beauty and Hair Salon. They also got a good view of the small parking lot, where the stranger's car was parked. Fred had been right, it was indeed a corvette; black in color and a Stingray model.  
  
Remus looked at it a moment, and agreed with the thought that it matched their guest perfectly. It was dark and almost morbid, and strangely_ exotic_.  
  
He jumped slightly at the scraping of a chair, and that the stranger had seated himself.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry..." Remus apologized, "I- I zoned out for a second..."  
  
"It's all right," He said. "Cozy inn." He commented, taking his sunglasses off, revealing wild kohl colored eyes. "I never caught your name- what was it?"  
  
"Lupin," Remus said, "Remus Lupin. I'll be your waiter for the evening. May I ask your name?"  
  
The man said nothing for a moment, but Remus swore he was hesitating. Even if he were, he covered up well, looking as though he were surveying his waiter. "Cyrus," he said finally. "Cyrus Tenaar."  
  
"It's nice to meet you," Remus said with a kind smile.  
  
There was a bell toll at the bar, Molly had the coffee ready.  
  
"Oh, your order... I'll be right back," Remus said. He went back over to the bar where Molly had a tray ready. She had a pot of coffee and an empty mug face down on a saucer, and a small plate of biscuits with two packets of sugar and cream on the side.  
  
He carried the tray carefully back to their guest and placed it on the table.  
  
"So," Remus said while pouring the coffee into the mug. "What brings you to Galeston?"  
  
"... nothing really... I grew up here, actually." Cyrus said watching Remus work.  
  
"What part of town?" Remus asked. "Cream or sugar?"  
  
"Both," Cyrus said. "I used to live in the more wealthy part of the neighborhood. The Hills, actually."  
  
"The Old Hills or the New Hills?" Remus said placing the cup in front of him.  
  
"New Hills?" Cyrus raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Yeah, the New Hills is on the east part of town, a little ways from the main housings of Galeston." Remus said. "The Old Hills are on the west, but no one lives there anymore, aside from an old woman named Sylvia Moore. But she's more of a hermit than a true resident."  
  
"I grew up in- near Grimmauld... the old Black Estate," Cyrus said with a light pause, taking a sip of his coffee. "I suppose in the Old Hills, then. You say no one lives there anymore?"  
  
"No," Remus said. "Well... accept for myself, I admit. My family's old manor is still standing..."  
  
"Oh," Cyrus said glancing out the window and towards his car. George, Ron and Harry were out there, admiring the car from all angles. George was talking animatedly over something about it and Ron was staring enviously at it, making the occasional comment to Harry.  
  
Cyrus's eyes widened. "Who...?"  
  
"Hm?" Remus looked too. "Oh, I believe you've seen them before. The two red heads are more of Molly's sons."  
  
"Who's that kid? The one with the glasses?" He asked, not taking his eyes off of young Harry.  
  
"Him? That's Harry Potter, Ron's- the one with the big nose... yeah- anyway, he's Ron's best friend." Remus said with a slight cough (probably about the big nose comment).  
  
Cyrus was silent; staring seemingly fascinated at the young boy.  
  
"Is there something wrong?" Remus asked, looking at their guest with concern.  
  
"Huh?" Cyrus pried his eyes away from the window. "Oh no... he just... looks like someone I knew, that's all."  
  
"Oh, all right..." Remus cleared his throat. "Would you like anything else?"  
  
"No... unless you have a newspaper I could look at? This week's headlines is much preferable." Cyrus said, his eyes traveling back to the window.  
  
"Of course," Remus nodded curtly once more, going back over to the bar.  
  
"So," Molly said once he reached her. "What's he like? Did he tell you where he's from?"  
  
"Apparently, he's originally from here." Remus said going around the bar and to the stacks of newspapers. "Why the sudden interest, anyway, Molly?"  
  
Molly blinked and waved a nervous hand, "Oh, no reason... he's just... so _different_, curiosity, you know..."  
  
"Do you _fancy_ him, Molly?" Remus asked with a teasing smile, pulling up the week's Sunday paper.  
  
Molly blushed, "Remus, how could you say that?! I'm a married woman!... but I have to admit... he's rather _dashing_ isn't he?" She giggled like a schoolgirl, making Remus laugh.  
  
"You would say that, wouldn't you?" Remus smiled, checking the date of the paper to make sure it was the right one.  
  
"Oh stop it!" She said, "Besides, it's not like we have much excitement around here anyway. He just looks so... _dangerous_, and strangely _divine_, don't you think? Say, did you happen to catch his name?" she asked almost hopefully.  
  
Remus just laughed again, "It's Cyrus."  
  
"Cyrus... oh, it matches his exterior!" Molly giggled again.  
  
"I hope Arthur doesn't hear you," Remus pointed out, but still with a smile on his face.  
  
"Oh, nonsense, you know I love my husband deeply." Molly said, looking flushed, but miffed.  
  
"I know, I know... I'll be back Molly, our guest wants the paper." Remus said, indicating the newspaper.  
  
"Sure, sure... oh talk with him, find out if he'll be staying permanently." She was a little red at this.  
  
"I will," He grinned going back over to Cyrus's table, shaking his head. "Sorry to keep you waiting." He said handing their guest the paper.  
  
"Not at all," Cyrus said scanning the front page.  
  
"I'm sorry, but we only have the week's local papers. We get the national news in the morning, if you'd like a copy of that tomorrow?" Remus said.  
  
"Sure," He turned immediately to the classifieds and ads.  
  
"Will there be anything else?" Remus asked.  
  
"... yes, actually..." Cyrus folded up the paper and placed it on the side of the tray. "I haven't been here in twelve years, I'm not sure how much has changed. I need to know a few things, if you'd kindly chat with me?"  
  
Remus blinked. "Of course,"  
  
"Please, sit, this might be a while." Cyrus took another sip of his coffee as the waiter sat across from him. "First off, I'd like to know why the Old Hills are pretty much abandoned."  
  
"Truthfully, I'm not exactly sure." Remus said. "Most of it's rumors-"  
  
"We can start with that, then." Cyrus prompted.  
  
"All right," the waiter cleared his throat. "I'm not much of a story teller, and I might miss a few things, just to let you know... well, it began with the Black family- I'm sure you know of them, you've lived here when they were around, right?"  
  
Cyrus nodded.  
  
"Well," Remus continued. "Strange things seem to always happen around them. Strange and dark things, mind. They were obscenely rich and were said to have power in the town's council. They were a large family, as the head of the estate had five sons, which were rumored to be trained- strangely as it sounds- to be _assassins_. Of course, people found this to be completely rediculous, the rumor was started by a nine-year-old anyway." He laughed a little.  
  
The guest smiled grimly.  
  
"Well, even with that, people began to actually believe it. Murders began happening in the Old Hills, you see. Twelve people, all pretty powerful, found in a bloody pool in their own homes." Remus shuddered, murder and blood always sort of creeped him out. "No one would leave their houses for a while, after hearing that, fearing for their own lives, I suppose. Anyway, they caught who did it, it was one of the Black sons. The youngest, caught brutally slaughtering a farmer."  
  
Cyrus's eyes narrowed. Remus didn't know it was either out of anger or fascination. He decided the latter.  
  
"Because of this, the Black family was ruined. The head of the estate's reputation had crumbled, his son in prison, and his other sons were questioned- mostly about the rumor. It was denied of course, but they did, however, state something about the youngest one's state of mind. I heard he was sent to Gray Harbor as a high class prisoner." Remus shrugged.  
  
"That still doesn't explain why the Old Hills are abandoned," Cyrus said.  
  
"I'm getting there," Remus said with a soft smile. "It was after the head of the estate died when they were emptied."  
  
"What?" Cyrus eyes widened, "He died? How- when?"  
  
Remus blinked at Cyrus's sudden eagerness to know, "Well, um... they said he took ill after his son went to prison, around eleven or maybe twelve years ago. Because of his death, people see the Old Hills as cursed. It's quite the eerie place now, even with the hermit Sylvia."  
  
Cyrus was silent, but he had a strange sort of amused smile on his face. "Really?" he said finally. "Interesting..."  
  
Remus looked at him curiously.  
  
"Thank you, Remus." Cyrus said with a thankful smile. "You've been very helpful to me." He pulled out his wallet and placed some rather rich looking bills in front of him.  
  
Remus stared awkwardly, but not at the bills, but at the wallet.  
  
Cyrus snapped it closed and stuffed it in his back pocket, taking the waiter back to reality.  
  
"Don't be bashful," Cyrus said with a small smile, "take them." He indicated the bills.  
  
"Huh? Oh..." Remus took them with a hesitant hand, "Thank you..."  
  
"Room's ready!" Fred said dashing down the stairs and nearly falling over himself.  
  
"What took you, Fred?" Molly scolded coming around the bar. "Poor man has been waiting for almost a half hour!"  
  
"Sorry mum," Fred panted. "There was a bird in the room- had to chase it out- then I couldn't find the blankets and-"  
  
"Oh hush!" Molly frowned, blushing with embarrassment. "My own son, honestly! Oh, just go fetch your brothers, I'm starting dinner, and your father will be home soon." She looked over when Cyrus approached her, followed by Remus. She blushed even deeper.  
  
"I apologize-"she began as Fred ran off.  
  
Cyrus just shook his head, "Not to worry, miss. Your waiter is good company, he's been very helpful."  
  
"Very good," Molly smiled. "your room is ready. If you'd like to get settled, I'll have Remus take you up-?"  
  
"No, no... It's all right. I need time to be alone anyway," Cyrus said with a curt nod. "Just tell me where to go, if you don't mind?"  
  
"Oh, it's the first door on the left." She said.  
  
"Right, thank you." With that, he began his way up the stairs, his boots giving off a dull thud and the clanking of his heavy chains.  
  
Remus had been silent through their guest's and Molly's exchange of words, strangely curious about what he saw in Cyrus's wallet, as he stared after the stranger as he ascended the stairs.  
  
Cyrus Tenaar was his name, but was it truly? That wasn't what it said on the ID...  
  
"... Jeremy Holland?" Remus murmured to himself as his eyes remained on the stairs, though the strange man was out of sight.  
  
But why would Cyrus lie about his name?  
  
&&&  
  
Ta DA! CHAPPY 1! I did it! Ten pages and I did it! :) Even though only one reviewed... hm... hopefully I'll get more this time!  
  
Please review? This story means a lot to me... and besides, if you're lucky, I might... lemon it up. (hint, hint, wink, wink) :)  
  
With love,  
  
Hetera  
  
PS: Please let this have made sense! Oh, I hope the imagery's okay... Did I do all right? Please tell me! I must know!!! 


	3. Shaky Awakenings

_**Lucky Number 13**_  
  
Please see Prologue chappy for summary. I own nothing, though I wouldn't mind owning Sirius or Remus. :) Heehee...  
  
Thanks to:  
  
ElvishJedi- I forgot to put your name up last time! I'm sorry... I wanted to thank you for reviewing... it's good to know that at least one person liked this... I hope you stick around, you know? :)

Amy- Oh thank you! Oh wow, you really like it? I did okay? YAY! Happiness!

Purple Robe- Oh... for real? Gosh, I feel so... so honored... so eek, my I'm gushing! Heehee! Thank you!!!

December Jewel- Thank you oh so very much!!!

HappyDappyDrunk- Thank you!!!  
  
**WARNING**: Dark thoughts, very morbid- thoughts of graphic murder. Um... mentions of slashy-ness. There will be more as we go on. Intense moments. :)  
  
Chapter 2:  
  
_Shaky Awakenings_  
  
He got away.  
  
It was almost hard for him to believe, but he escaped- escaped with a bloodied blade and another death to plague his conscience.  
  
It had been years since Sirius Black had seen Galeston, his hometown, and he owed it all to Dr. Holland that he got here- or more thanks to his car. It contained most of the doctor's personal belongings, a wallet for example, with enough money to keep him going for a while. Also, one of the compartments contained a lovely change of clothing, Gothic wear, just his style (he wasn't sure about Holland, though). It also contained a pair of scissors, allowing him to snip his hair the way he wanted. It was a rough- cut, but better than his old wild grow.  
  
The small changes didn't exactly give him a disguise, but it made him feel cleaner in a way, to shed the disgusting feel of gloomy Gray Harbor. Prison dirt, one might say.  
  
He made it to Galeston, checking into an old fashioned inn called The Widow, under the alias of "Cyrus Tenaar". It was a cozy place and absurdly empty. This was good, that meant no one could bother him here. The inn is where he met the kind hostess Molly; Sirius didn't catch her last name, but she was a nice woman with three sons that he knew of so far.  
  
Then there was the quite helpful Remus Lupin. A kind, informative young waiter with short honey brown hair and moon colored eyes.  
  
Sirius grinned as he lye on the bed in the room that Molly's son, Fred, had prepared for him. Shirt removed, hair let down, and a lit cigarette to his lips- he smiled as he remembered Remus's light British accent, his naturally smiling face, and how adorable he looked in an apron. It just tied beautifully around his slim waist; hinting, teasing Sirius about what could be under the fabrics that clothed his body.  
  
"Cute," he murmured, blowing the smoke through his nose, no question of his sexuality coming to mind. "Naïve, I expect." He chuckled. "But cute."  
  
It's been a while since Sirius had felt any attraction to anyone (woman or not), being in prison for twelve years, perhaps even before. His last relationship had been... lightly putting it, crushing. Putting all thoughts of that aside, he couldn't exactly afford a relationship for the time being.  
  
Sirius Black didn't escape prison to scope anyone out. There was only one reason and one reason alone: revenge.  
  
He took one last drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out on a conveniently placed ashtray on his bedside table. Blowing out the smoke, he reached under his pillow and pulled out the sword he stole from Holland's office wall.  
  
He traced the gold dragon designs on the hardened sheath with his fingers, frowning at the very thought of what he was going to do with this steal. It made him feel guilty and yet...  
  
A sick smile graced his face.  
  
It would make him feel much better, _so much better_- to spill the blood of those bastards that ruined him, his life, and his childhood. To see the look of horror on their faces when they die, to feel death take them, to see their lifeless eyes grow cold...  
  
Sirius shook from these thoughts, the guilt returning.  
  
But why should he feel guilty? It was his damned father's entire fault he went to prison in the first place.  
  
"And all those damned rich bastards that helped him," Sirius murmured angrily pulling the sword from its sheath, the silver blade glinting in the moonlight that shown through an open window.  
  
"I'll kill them," he vowed. "I won't rest until they soak in their own blood." He threw the ashtray, slicing it in two with one swipe of the Asian blade, kohl eyes glinting dangerously.  
  
"_I swear it_."

"Good morning, Remus." Molly said cheerfully the next day The Widow opened. She was unusually perky, cleaning the windows with car wax instead of her usual citrus spray.  
  
"You're in a good mood," Remus commented putting on his apron and grabbing a rag.  
  
"Always am, dear." She chimed. "But let's not dilly dally around, hm? Lots to clean, lots to do!" She whistled happily taking the broom and sweeping (with the broom upside down, mind.)  
  
Remus blinked looking at the windows which were fogged with Molly's wax. Shaking his head, he took the rag and began to clean them properly. For most of the daily chores, Remus had to follow Molly around, fixing whatever she "cleaned", and having to stop her from pouring acidic bug-killing spray all over the azaleas on The Widow's only garden.  
  
"Mum's really happy," Ron said while helping re-wash the dishes (Molly scrubbed them with Clorox). Ginny, the youngest and only daughter, was helping to dry.  
  
"Because we have a guest?" Remus inquired checking anything else for Molly's odd "cleaning".  
  
"Close," Ginny giggled. "Because we have a handsome one!"  
  
Ron gagged, "Remember what she was like when she first hired Remus? No offense, mate."  
  
"None taken," Remus shrugged. "Wait a moment... what?" he looked at them funny.  
  
"Oh, you don't remember?" Ginny giggled again. "She cooked funny, almost forgot _how_ to cook- goodness, she thought you were _adorable_! Still does, by the way." She winked.  
  
Remus blinked, blushing with embarrassment, wishing he didn't ask.  
  
"Don't worry," Ron said finishing the last dish and handing it to Ginny. "It's not like she's going to chase you, she loves Da too much. This is pretty normal for her, whenever she thinks someone's attractive she acts all funny. Da gets pretty jealous, doesn't he Ginny?"  
  
"Sure does," Ginny said putting the dish in the cabinet. "I remember when we went to a book signing in the next town over. Mum wanted to get the autograph of her favorite romance novelist, Gilderoy Lockhart." She made a face. "Mum flirted, he flirted back."  
  
"Disturbing, really." Ron blanched.  
  
"Fun part was when Da punched him out." Ginny grinned. "We made the front page of the _London Times_."  
  
"_'Jealous Husband Practically Destroys England's Most Handsome Face'_," Ron quoted drying off his hands with a towel, grinning as well.  
  
"I remember that article," Remus said suddenly. "They took a shot of your father, didn't they? I couldn't really tell, though."  
  
"Yup, Da was beating the stuffing out of him- the guy screams like a bloody girl!" Ron said laughing.  
  
"Out of my kitchen!" Molly said, suddenly bustling through the door. "I have lots to cook, our guest will be hungry!" She went straight for the refrigerator pulling out cartons of eggs, sausages, a number of other breakfast items. She was humming a happy tune as she placed a skillet on the stove, setting the temperature with a carefree hand.  
  
"Later," Ron said, suppressing a snigger. "I'm going to go see Harry, his parents invited me over for breakfast."  
  
"Have fun, dear!" Molly chimed. "Say hello to Mrs. Potter for me!"  
  
But Ron was already out the door.  
  
"Would you like some help, Molly?" Remus asked.  
  
"With the cooking? No, no... Ginny, set the table, would you?" She said to her daughter. Ginny nodded and headed for the back parlor where the family dined.  
  
"But there's one thing you can do," Molly said. "See if our guest wants to eat. Ask him if he'd dine with us?" she blushed a little. "I'd certainly like to get to know him myself..."  
  
"Sure- oh my!" Remus reached for the skillet and pulled it off onto another burner, for the egg Molly cracked had set a flame.  
  
"Oh, whoops..." Molly blinked, taken from her little dream world. "Um... I'll just... clean that up and... try again..."  
  
"Be careful," Remus said heading for the kitchen door, "Don't hurt yourself, Molly."  
  
"Yes, yes..."  
  
He shook his head, going through the door, around the bar, and ascending the stairs. _First door on the left_, he remembered Molly saying. He stood in front of the wooden oak door with a brass number one, knocking softly on the polished frame.  
  
There was silence, so Remus tried again, this time louder. "Sir?" he said.  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Sir, are you awake?" Remus placed a hand on the brass knob, turning it, finding it to be unlocked. Hesitantly, he stepped inside.  
  
He looked around to see the room had a shady look, even for the morning. The normal colors were shadowed; Molly's usual creamy decorating hidden by the darkened shades. The reason being this was because of the window, which was closed by the curtain, forbidding the sunlight.  
  
Remus made for the windows, which was a natural habit for him, to open them up to let the light in- but he stopped in mid-stride, hearing a groan from the bed.  
  
Staring awkwardly, he slowly approached the restless sleeper, nearly tripping over something. Two somethings. He bent down to pick them up. They appeared to be pieces of an ashtray, somehow cut cleanly in two.  
  
Remus's eyes narrowed, _How strange_... he thought. He placed the broken tray on the bedside table, looking at the one who occupied the bed.  
  
Cyrus Tenaar looked disheveled, his pale face with a feverish look. His hair, once tied back was let down and disoriented, strands seemingly everywhere on Molly's cream colored pillows. He lye shirtless, the pants he wore the other night still in tact. His face was scrunched, caught in a nightmare.  
  
Remus stared unsure of what to do. Naturally, a hand raised to shake his shoulder...  
  
"ARGH!!!"  
  
It happened rather quickly, Remus barely touching Cyrus's arm, Cyrus's shocking outburst- but some how he was flipped over and now he was lying on the bed, Cyrus over him and wide awake, reaching back... reaching back for a weapon that was never there.  
  
Dazed, the waiter looked into Cyrus's wide kohl colored pools, watching as the shock- probably of finding Remus there- diminish from his eyes.  
  
"Remus?" He breathed. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Remus couldn't speak, a look of shock and fear on his face. He breathed heavily, one arm locked over his head by Cyrus's tight grip; his other lower arm pinned under Cyrus's knee. It hurt, and it left him paralyzed.  
  
Seemingly realizing the pain Remus was in, Cyrus released him.  
  
"What did you just do...?" Remus managed, ignoring the fact that Cyrus was still straddling him.  
  
He was silent for a moment, studying Remus's reddening face. "You... _startled_ me, that's all. Sorry." He said removing himself from Remus's waist. "It's a reflex." He added glancing at the waiter's still shocked face.  
  
"Reflex..." Remus swallowed, sitting up. "R-right..."  
  
There was a pregnant pause as Cyrus sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his long hair. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. Lighting one he took a long drag, looking over at Remus.  
  
He blushed.  
  
Cyrus raised an eyebrow, "Want one?" he offered.  
  
"Um... no... no, thank you, I mean-I don't smoke." Remus looked away, still red in the cheeks.  
  
"So," he said blowing the smoke through his nose. "What's on your mind?"  
  
Remus still didn't look at him. "Excuse me?" he asked trying not to sound- in a way- small or squeaky.  
  
"You can't have come up here for nothing," Cyrus pointed out.  
  
"Oh yes," He cleared his throat. "Molly wanted to know if you wanted to come down for breakfast. That's all."  
  
Cyrus took another drag, before turning to the broken ashtray and putting the bud out. He smirked, looking at Remus. The waiter still wouldn't look at him.  
  
"Hey," Remus jumped a little when Cyrus touched his cheek, forcing him to look into those wild eyes.  
  
"Can I ask you a favor?" Cyrus whispered huskily, touching the tips of Remus's honey colored bangs as he trailed his fingers down the side of his face.  
  
Numbly, Remus nodded, chest tight and cheeks tinted pink.  
  
"I'd like a tour of the town," Cyrus murmured, "A walk around, you could call it. Would you mind taking me when you're free?"  
  
He nodded again, shivering under Cyrus's light touch.  
  
"Wonderful," Cyrus smirked, getting off the bed and picking up his discarded T-shirt. "I'll be looking forward to it." He stood at the frame of the door, looking over his shoulder. "Coming?"  
  
Shakily, Remus removed himself from the bed, walking towards the door and following Cyrus down the stairs.  
  
&&&  
  
Oh dear, I'm going to have to stop here... poo, I wanted to get more done too! (Hey, that rhymed! ... right...) Um, sorry I have to go, my few, loyal readers! I'm going on vacation for a week! WWWWWEEEEEE!!! :) I'm goin' to Hawaii, I'm goin' to Hawaii! Yay! Well... I hope you all enjoy my short update, I'll make my next one longer, I promise!  
  
Um... please review? I really worked hard on this... please?  
  
Oh, and check out my new fic, Zeta- it's a short prologue, but it'll get better! I promise that! :)  
  
See you all in a week!  
  
With love,  
  
Hetera  
  
PS: EEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKK!!! I'm worried about this chapter! Oh, it's so short- short isn't good! People like long ones, but I don't have time- I gotta pack, gotta get moving, gotta wake up at four in the morning, it's eleven thirty-six!!! PM! I hope you all aren't mad- did I rush the fluff? Should I slow it down? Does this need editing? EEPNESS! TELL ME!!! 


End file.
